


Blind-sided

by snailboat64



Category: Human Target - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailboat64/pseuds/snailboat64
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bleak and angsty one shot when Junior sees Guerrero for the first time after he gets out of jail. Hurt comfort-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind-sided

Rating: T

Permission to archive to WWOMB: Yes  
Acknowledgments/Notes:  
Disclaimer.Human Target does not belong to me. no money made in this  
\--------------------------------------------------

“How is he?”

“Heavily sedated.” The doctor said, dabbing at his bleeding lip with a wad of gauze. “For my sake as well as his.”

Junior glared at the wounded doctor. He was in a small way relieved that Guerrero was himself enough to lash out .

“I can see you’ve doped him up doc.” Junior said through gritted teeth. “But I need to know that he’s going to be okay.”

“Without knowing exactly what chemicals were thrown in his face, it’s almost impossible for me to say what kind of long-term prognosis your friends is facing.”

The doctor shrank away from Junior as the larger man’s already stony expression darkened and took on a murderous intensity.

“Try anyway.”

The doctor swallowed nervously. He was caught in an impossible situation. If he told the man his friend was going to regain normal vision and he didn’t, the man would kill him. If he played it safe and told him his friend might never see again, the man may kill him out of anger anyway.

“I have done everything I can for your friend.” He said, trying to sound efficient and confident. “I suspect the chemicals were a strong alkaline solution which I have neutralised. His eyes were irrigated almost immediately after the attack so everything that could be done to save his sight has been done. It is now just a matter of waiting to see how much damage has been done.”

Junior stood staring at Guerrero lying on the bed in the spare room of his apartment and wished for the hundredth time that day that he could get him to a real hospital with proper medical equipment. A real hospital was out of the question though, so he had to make do with this back alley quack that he’d not normally trust to sew up a simple through and through gunshot wound. Still, he had been a qualified doctor once upon a time, before the heroin addiction and malpractice suits.

“His other wounds are painful but not serious.” The doctor explained. “A cracked rib or two, a lot of bruising and four broken fingers. I’ve patched him up as best I can. He must of put up one hell of a fight before they beat him.”

“They didn’t beat him.” Junior replied. “He took down all six of the bastards even after one of them threw that shit in his face.”

He was still staring intently at his friend and the doctor began to wonder if the man had been talking to him at all. He seemed so distracted that the doctor decided it would be best if he slipped away before he remembered he was there.

Junior waited for the doctor to leave before walking in and sitting in the chair beside Guerrero’s bed. He lay on his back perfectly still with a wash cloth covering his eyes. He was so still that Junior couldn’t be sure if the doctor’s drugs had knocked him out.

“Hey dude.”

“Hey. Didn’t know if you were awake.”

“Neither did I until I heard you come in. What did the doc say?”

Junior hesitated. He knew there was no point trying to bullshit Guerrero but the sight of his friend looking so small and helpless made it hard for him to just come out and say that he didn’t know if he’d be alright.

“That bad huh?” Guerrero half smiled. “Am I gonna need a dog and a white stick or what?”

“I honestly don’t know buddy.” Junior admitted sadly. “I wish I could have gotten you out of there sooner.”

“The old man came through for me in the end though.”

Junior had been dreading this part of the conversation. There was no easy way to tell Guerrero that the old man refused to intervene, that had Junior not found out that Guerrero was rotting away in a Mexican prison and called on every contact he had he would still be there now. Junior wasn’t surprised that their boss refused to lift a finger to help but he was furious with him for hiding Guerrero’s predicament from him for over a month. If he had known sooner he could have gotten Guerrero out sooner and saved him from suffering the assault that may cost him his vision.

“He… I…. Kelly got you out, Guerrero.” Junior said, referring to the attorney they both knew as the sister of one of their hacker contacts.

Guerrero seemed to take a moment to assimilate this information.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the old bastard would just let me rot.” He said. “I owe Kelly big time. She saved my life.”

“You seemed to be holding your own in there.” Junior said trying to lighten the mood.

“This was just a few punk inmates.” He replied, indicating his injuries. “I could handle them but..”

“But what?”

“There’s worse things than other inmates.” Guerrero said quietly, rubbing at his wrists.

“Did the doc see that?” Junior asked. He hadn’t noticed the angry welts on Guerrero’s wrists, evidence that he’d spent much of his time in prison restrained. In places the skin was broken and weeping and although it didn’t seem that the wounds were infected yet Junior didn’t like the look of them.

“No.” Guerrero said, pulling the sleeves of his shirt down to cover the red raw flesh of his wrists. He couldn’t see Junior but he could feel his eyes staring at him.

“Why not?” Junior asked gently, although he suspected he knew the answer.

“I can’t… It’s personal dude.”

Junior knew that was as much of an explanation as Guerrero could bare to give.

“I’m sorry…” he began.

“Don’t. Just don’t, Junior.” Guerrero cut him off. Junior realised that he didn’t even know how to end the sentence anyway. But he’d tried and Guerrero understood.

“I need to clean up your wrists. The wounds could get infected.”

“They’re fine.” Guerrero insisted.

“Yeah well they won’t be for long if you don’t let me clean them up.”

Reluctantly he allowed Junior to bathe his wounds. Junior tried to be as gentle as possible but he knew the real pain Guerrero was struggling with was of the emotional kind and he knew there was no way he could help him with that.


End file.
